


Alignment

by winterstorrm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, HP: EWE, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterstorrm/pseuds/winterstorrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco bet Blaise that he would finally make his move on Potter, he got a lot more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alignment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Harry/Draco mpreg fest 2011. Thank you to singlemomsummer for the beta.

“Have you heard the news?” Pansy whispered with her usual sense of drama as she slid into the seat beside Draco at the Slytherin table and began to help herself to roast beef and potatoes.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes – Pansy was always full of gossip, and most of it was exceedingly dull. “That depends on what ‘news’ to which you’re referring,” he replied in a bored voice, hoping she would get the message and leave him to his brooding contemplation.

“You can’t have heard then.” Pansy sounded gleeful at the idea that she could be the one to impart whatever the latest gossip was to Draco. “Have a guess. It’s the last thing you’d ever think of.”

Draco sighed, but he knew ignoring Pansy was an exercise in futility. “Luna Lovegood is marrying a Centaur named Barnaby?”

Pansy giggled. “Not even close. Try again.”

“Professor McGonagall is pregnant by Flitwick?”

Pansy made a vomiting noise before shaking her head and saying, “No, silly – but someone is pregnant. Guess who?”

“Do I have to?” Draco took a sip of his pumpkin juice and scanned the room, not really sure what he was looking for as the pregnant girl wouldn’t be showing yet or they would all have heard about this before.

“You’re no fun. Come on, Draco. It’s the last person you’d ever think of. It’s brilliant.”

“Alright – Granger?” Draco was almost hoping he was right, because that would be too funny. The smile fell off his face when he realised the father would be the Weasel which offered him a mental image of the two of them… He shuddered and turned his full attention to Pansy with his best fake smile.

“No, but close.”

A cold clammy fist closed around Draco’s heart and a feeling of dread spread through his stomach as his thoughts moved on from Granger and he said, “Not the Weaselette?” He wanted to lift his head and look over to the Gryffindor table and fix his eyes on her belly, look for clues that it was her because if it was then-

“No! Although that would almost as good as this. Try ag-”

“Just tell me!” Draco snapped, suddenly very sick of this game.

Pansy scowled but leaned into Draco’s ear anyway and whispered, “Potter.”

Draco gasped and dropped his pumpkin juice, spilling it all over the remains of his dinner. Immediately he leapt to his feet and pushed back from the table to avoid the liquid spilling onto his trousers. As he stepped back he allowed himself to look from under his lashes over to the person he hadn’t been allowing himself to even as much as glance at for the last six weeks.

Green eyes were staring back at him, unfathomable and cold. Harry Potter. The hand around Draco’s heart squeezed tighter. He allowed his gaze to drop lower, but Potter was wearing robes that gave nothing away. Could it be true? Draco knew men could get pregnant, but it was rarer than Veela hair. Potter never had conformed to the norm though, had he?

Draco flipped his gaze back upward and received a poisonous glare for his trouble before Potter pointedly turned away and struck up a conversation with Seamus Finnegan.

Ignoring Pansy’s fussing over spilt juice, followed by cries of, “Where are you going?” Draco almost ran to the exit and didn’t stop until he was in the dorm and on his bed with the curtains drawn firmly around him and a sticking charm in place.

Harry Potter was pregnant.

Now all Draco needed to know – before he started panicking - was if the baby was his.

-O-

Draco hadn’t planned it; or rather he hadn’t expected it, despite having fantasised about it for every night since he was thirteen. Shagging Potter had just happened as much as shagging your one time mortal enemy turned teeny tiny fucking huge obsession could just ‘happen’.

He’d always been attracted to Potter, from day one, back when Potter had snubbed his hand of friendship for Weasley’s and Draco had been left out in the cold. Draco hadn’t known what that feeling was at eleven, by thirteen he knew very well.

That was how it felt not to be basking in the joy of Potter’s attention – cold. Fucking artic. Now the war was over and Potter had banished the Dark Lord back into the depths of the hell from which he had risen and they didn’t have to be enemies anymore; but Potter had still spurned him. Yes, he’d shown up in court and saved Draco’s arse from Azkaban, but he’d left just as quickly as he’d arrived and he hadn’t paid Draco any attention since that day, not even when Draco tried to pick a fight.

Draco had been cold again. He couldn’t bear it, but Potter refused to rise to his bait – and Draco baited Potter nigh on daily.

Blaise had called him out on it. “Either do something about it, Draco, or I will.”

Draco had felt sick. Blaise had used that tone of voice; the predatory seducer; his mother’s son. “What do you mean, ‘you will’?”

“Harry Potter’s not the scrawny scrap he used to be. He’s grown up very nicely indeed, and you’re not the only one falling under his thrall,” Blaise licked his lips and smiled, reminding Draco of Greyback eyeing his prey. “The best thing is that Potter doesn’t even realise it. All that power-” Blaise closed his eyes and shuddered.

“Don’t you dare-”

“You’re the only reason I haven’t, Draco,” Blaise said. “Best mates have to count for something. But no one else is going to give a shit about your feelings, and soon, someone’s going to sweep in there and take Potter for their own.”

Images of Potter naked had flashed into Draco’s head, followed by visions of him writhing in passion with the Weaselette; she was always sniffing around him.

The blood rushed to his groin at the same time as the jealousy stabbed through his fluttering heart.

“No. I’ll do it. I’ll make a move. I’ll do something about it. I will. I will.”

“I bet you a month’s History of Magic homework that you won’t make a move. You’re too scared he’ll reject you again.”

Blaise was right; Draco was petrified of holding out his hand to Potter again, only to have those green eyes peer down his nose at Draco with a sneer of disgust, before turning and walking away.

“I bet you a month’s worth of Arithmancy homework that I will do something; in fact, get your pensieve ready, you can look at the evidence when I have.” Draco had thought it was going to be the evidence of his humiliation, but he forced the image out of his head.

That evening at dinner he’d watched Potter from beneath his lashes as a succession of five separate individuals approached him, flirted with him, dared to touch him, and Potter hadn’t seemed to even notice he was being flirted with. This was both good – Potter had not yet given in to someone else – and bad, because if Potter really was that oblivious, then Draco was going to have to be quite plain about what he wanted from him.

As it turned out, when he’d gone looking for Potter that evening with fire in his belly and butterflies in his chest, and had found him flying furious circles around the Quidditch pitch alone, things had not gone to plan.

Potter had seen him watching and swooped down to the ground in front of him, “What do you think you’re looking at, Malfoy?” he’d challenged, and Draco had immediately slipped back into the old learnt behaviour of ‘Potter speaks, Draco reacts’.

“Just getting a few pointers on how not to handle a broom,” Draco had shrugged, his heart speeding up as Potter’s eyes had narrowed and he’d dismounted the broom and stepped an inch closer.

“Is that the best insult you’ve got?” Potter laughed and spun around in the direction of the locker rooms. Draco had followed.

“How about ‘your hair looks like something died on top of your head five years ago’?” He was still behind Potter when he slammed into the changing rooms and propped his broom against the wall inside the door.

“Pathetic,” Potter replied and started to peel off his practice clothes. As his skin tight jersey top popped off his head revealing his half naked torso, Draco’s probably very witty retort had dried in his throat. Merlin.

Draco was hard in an instant.

“You’re perfect,” Draco heard himself say and immediately wanted to sink into the floor. Could he have been any more cheesy?

Potter had stilled. “What?”

“I said, you are pathetic.”

Potter raised a dark eyebrow. “No you didn’t. You said, ‘you’re perfect’.” He stepped closer and Draco backed up, only then realising he was already almost back against the wall. “Are you trying to tell me something, Malfoy?”

Draco’s erection was throbbing against the fastenings of his trousers, and with Potter’s close proximity he could smell his musky sweat scent from Quidditch practice. He was here for a reason; he had to try and this was the perfect opportunity. If Potter rejected him, then at least there were no witnesses.

He pointed his wand at the door and muttered a locking spell, and whilst Potter’s wide eyed attention was on that, he slipped his other hand around Potter’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

From the first moment of contact, Draco was lost. Potter responded with vigour, yanking Draco towards him, muttering something about a Slytherin idiot, which just made Draco want to smile.

“Potter-” he interrupted, wanting to tell him how much he wanted him, how he’d wanted him for so long that he couldn’t remember ever not wanting him.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Potter said, grabbing Draco’s tie and pulling him back in.

It was all heavy breaths and low moans, clothes being discarded carelessly onto the floor, hands exploring places that the daylight rarely saw and teeth grazing soft skin.

Potter’s naked form was even more magnificent than Draco had fantasised about; he’d filled out over the years, his stomach was flat with dark hair tapering down to Draco’s prize, his hips muscular and toned and- Draco dropped to his knees at Harry Potter’s feet, curled his hands around the back of those wonderful, wonderful thighs and closed his mouth over the head of Potter’s cock.

He licked, sucked and teased, loving the power he felt at making Potter moan and fed his hands into Draco’s hair, and when Potter’s breathing sped up and his fingers tightened on Draco’s scalp, Draco opened his eyes and looked up, catching Potter’s gaze in the moment before he cried out, “Draco!” and came, hard, down Draco’s throat. Draco had to press a hand against his own crotch to stop himself from coming right then, in his trousers, because he had every intention of being inside Potter when he came for him the first time.

“Oh, Merlin,” Potter breathed, dropping his head back against the wall. “Remind me why we’ve not done this before?”

“We’re not done yet,” Draco said, standing slowly. “I want to fuck you.”

Potter’s eyes widened, as though the thought had not occurred to him, before he grinned and said, “Come on then, Malfoy, do it.” He carded his hand into Draco’s hair and pushed in for another kiss, pressing the length of his body against Draco.

Even a Malfoy couldn’t keep self-control when he had a very naked saviour pressed against him. “Come on,” he said, taking Potter’s hand. “You need a shower and I want to wash your back.”

-O-

Draco didn’t know what he had expected afterwards, but it hadn’t been what he had got. They’d left that locker room hand in hand; Potter had kissed him under the shadow of darkness and whispered that he’d never come so hard, and Draco had been so turned on by Potter’s nearness and his words that he’d pressed him back into the wall near the school entrance and they had rutted against each other again, both of them coming in their trousers.

To Draco, that had been the promise of more. Yet the next day, and for the few after that, Potter had been nowhere to be seen. He’d then heard that Potter had picked up food poisoning and was in the infirmary. So he hadn’t really worried, deciding not to go and see him and have to explain his presence before they were ready, fully expecting that when Potter was better they would pick up where they’d left off – that something would happen.

Nothing happened.

When Potter came back to class after three days in the infirmary Draco tried to catch his eye, which was not easy when Potter was so clearly trying not to look at Draco. When, finally, Draco managed to get some eye contact during Potions, Potter had blushed and looked away.

Draco watched Potter filing out of the classroom at the end, flanked on either side by the other two thirds of the Gold Trio. He looked thoroughly wretched; pale and twitchy. Draco knew he’d been unwell, but he shouldn’t look like that. He worried that there was something worse wrong with him than simply food poisoning’ something that was looking to Draco like regret.

As soon as dinner was out of the way he intended to track Potter down and find out for himself.

-O-

“You did it then,” Blaise said after dinner as Draco attempted to leave the common room to look for Potter. At Blaise’s words, Draco froze and dragged Blaise into and into the shadows of the corridor outside the entrance, dropping his voice to a whisper, annoyed that Blaise had waited until now to ask when he’d had days to do so.

Draco had his own reasons for not telling Blaise what had occurred.

"Yes, I did. I told you I would." Even though Draco had no intention of collecting on the bet he'd made with Blaise, he couldn't help but feel some self-satisfaction that he had won - he had gone out there and got his man – and Malfoy’s always got what they wanted. Well, admittedly, half of it had been Potter's doing, but Blaise didn't have to know that. "So how many weeks of homework do I get out of you?"

Blaise's shoulders sagged a little, and he said, "A month’s."

"You should never bet against a Malfoy, Blaise. We always win."

"I’m impressed. I thought you’d bottle it," Blaise said." Although, I'll be expecting to see the evidence in the pensieve seeing as I don’t get to have a go myself."

Draco sighed and shook his head at Blaise’s words, hating the idea of Blaise or anyone else ‘having a go’ at Potter. What had happened between the two of them was incredibly private and he intended to keep it that way. This stupid bet with Blaise had been good as a kick up the backside - he had needed it. Now he'd got Potter, he was not going to share any part of him. Not even a memory.

"No - I wasn't lying about this but the bet is off. I'm not going to let you see a single moment of it."

Blaise grinned. "I knew you wouldn't want to." He pulled Draco into an unexpected hug. "I'm pleased for you. He's the only one worthy of you."

Merlin, Draco hoped he was worthy of Potter. He returned the embrace, pleased that his best friend wasn't pushing the 'evidence' thing. "I need to go and find him," he said, pulling out of the hug. "I need to-"

"Alright," Blaise said, giving Draco a gentle shove. "While you're there can you ascertain if there's a chance for me with that Seamus Finnegan?"

Draco laughed and rolled his eyes. "You never stop, do you?"

-O-

Draco had zero luck finding Potter that night. It was as though Potter knew where Draco was and avoided him. The Golden Trio's usual library table was empty, Potter was not lurking atop the Astronomy Tower as he often did - not that Draco knew about Potters habit of going up there of course and thought about joining him before or anything - nor was he on the Quidditch pitch. The only place he could be was in the Gryffindor Tower and for a Slytherin, a Malfoy especially, to turn up at the door asking for Harry Potter, well, Draco knew he couldn't just do that.

So he waited, getting more and more despondent and his heart slowly breaking at Potter’s obvious avoidance of him as the days passed, until finally his chance arrived when Professor Slughorn asked Potter to stay behind after class; Draco waited for him outside the door, stepping out the shadows as Potter passed and yanking him into an alcove.

"Malfoy- What are you doing?" Potter gasped, wrenching his arm out of Draco's grip.

"Trying to get your attention as you’ve been avoiding me," Draco answered, trying to meet his eyes and having no luck at the task, Potter seemingly found the wall more interesting than him. "The other night-"

"-was just sex." Potter finished. "It was nice and all, but I've had better."

Draco's jaw dropped and something dark twisted inside him. Of course. Just sex. The Chosen One would never love the son of a Death Eater. The Chosen One had rejected Draco's friendship once before; now he had come back for another twist of the knife and rejected his love as well.

"I thought it was more than that," he whispered, unable to stop himself and reached out a hand to Potter's. Potter flinched back and was already turning away.

"It was nothing more than that," Potter threw back at him as he walked away. Draco waited for him to go and dropped to his haunches and dropped his already spinning head to his knees.

He should've known better than have even hoped. Of course he wasn’t worthy of the hero. Whatever made him think he could ever be?

-O-

If Draco had been in any doubt that Pansy was wrong about Potter’s pregnancy, it soon died when the story of Potter's predicament reached the whole school. For a couple of days it was all anyone could be heard talking about, as though time stood still and there was only Potter, Potter, Potter.

Draco’s world had been all about Potter since he was eleven. He didn’t know who he would be without that constant – love or hate, Potter was in his blood.

Love and hate were close friends; so where did Potter’s indifference fit in? It was the indifference that scared Draco more than anything else. Draco thought that was the most depressing word of the English language.

Everywhere Draco went he heard whispered conversations, other students blatantly not caring about being subtle and openly talking about Potter’s pregnancy and speculation was the order of the day. Harry Potter was with child which opened up a lot of questions. If there was a baby in Harry's belly - who had put it there? A couple of people had suggested it was the Weaselette, but they were muggle born and probably hadn't even known that male pregnancy was possible, let alone what it meant.

At that thought, Draco had to wonder if Potter had even known it was possible. Apparently male pregnancy was the result of the joining of two special magical signatures if combined during the alignment of certain stars. This was very rare and very very magical. The child would be unique amongst its peers, one of a kind. More magical than any of these ignorant gossiping school children could ever imagine.

When Draco remembered this – long ago stored information that every pure blood was made aware of at a young age - his gut clenched in the fear that he wasn't the father. He wanted to be. Merlin, he wanted that more than anything; so much so that he was freaking himself out. This couldn’t be normal – barely eighteen and hoping that he had fathered a child with another man, even if the other man was Potter. He actually wanted Potter to be tied to him forever through this child. Potter might not want him right now, but at one point he had wanted him enough to fuck him and that had resulted in this magical baby. Potter would have to allow Draco some form of contact with the baby, and that would mean that Draco would always be in Potter’s life, and perhaps one day he would let Draco back in.

How could it have been ‘just sex’ when it had resulted in this wonderful rare gift of life?

Okay, so the gift was coming to them early in life. Draco would have liked to be in his mid-twenties at least before becoming a father, however, it was happening now and Draco could do this. If he was the father then he wanted to be in his child's life.

If Potter hadn't placed the doubt in his minds about having 'had better' then Draco would have been certain that the baby was his.

Merlin, he felt sick at the thought that Potter had even been with someone else before him, the thought of someone after him stabbed persistently at his heart. Harry Potter was his. The baby was his.

He had to speak to Potter to find out the truth; unfortunately, Granger and Weasley seemed to flank him wherever he went. Getting Potter alone was not going to be easy.

-O-

In the end Draco had to face them as a three. "Potter, can I have a word?" Draco asked two nights later as they filed out of the great hall after dinner, having given up on ever being able to corner Potter by himself. "Alone."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Weasley snarled, stepping protectively in front of Potter. "He doesn't want or need anything from you; he and the baby are just fine without you!"

"I never said anything about the baby," Draco replied, his stomach doing somersaults as his mind unpicked what Weasley had just implied. He flicked his gaze over to Potter, who looked a little pale and was glaring at Weasley before dropping his gaze to the floor and shuffling his feet. So, Draco was the father, and at least Granger and Weasley both knew it.

"You-" Weasley began again and was stopped by a hand on his arm. Draco kept his attention on Potter, still standing slightly behind Weasley, one hand over his stomach, now watching Draco through narrowed slivers of green. He still looked as though he wanted to vomit. Draco wanted to pull him into a hug and tell him everything was going to be okay, but he couldn't, because Potter had rejected him and hadn't even bothered to tell him he was going to be a parent. He also could not make promises he couldn’t keep.

"Meet us in the Room of Requirement in fifteen minutes," Granger said, snagging Draco's attention away from Potter. "By 'us' I mean me and Harry."

“But-” Weasley stuttered and was cut off by a glare from Granger.

Draco nodded and with another glance at Potter, backed away. He could do this. He could remain aloof and show them that he only wanted involvement with the baby and not Potter. If that was what it took, then he would pretend. This child, although unborn, was about to become Draco's only family. His father had died at Voldemort's hands and his Mother had passed just after the war as a result of a stray curse that had slowly killed her. Draco had no one. For a moment he'd thought he'd found someone to care for who cared for him too, but he'd been wrong. It had only been sex.

He wanted his child. He needed this.

-O-

The longest minutes of his life were passed leaning against the wall in front of the Room of Requirement, not wanting to go inside because he wanted to see what happened to the room when it settled on the needs of Potter or Granger.

When they finally arrived – ten minutes late - they were arguing. Potter clearly was not pleased to be there at all. Hermione was waving her hands as she talked, which to Draco always showed she meant business. She greeted Draco and Potter made the desired number of moves in front of the wall for the door to appear, letting himself in first and immediately retreating to the far side by the window and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Draco did a quick scan of the room and found it held nothing other than a table and chairs. He stepped over the threshold thinking that this was how it was going to be. The state of the room said it all.

The door slammed behind him and he heard Granger muttering a locking spell from the other side. Damn. Potter rolled his eyes, and said, “I suspected she’d do that.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Draco asked, trying to clean something from Potter’s face that showed he wanted to be locked in a room with Draco.

“No point,” Potter shook his head. “She’d only find some other way of getting us to talk, might as well get it over with.”

“Is the baby mine?” Draco said without preamble. He’d thought of nothing else in what felt like weeks but could only have been days since finding out.

Potter turned to Draco. "Yes, it's your baby. No, you can't have a paternity test, you either believe me or not, I don't care. You don't need to be involved; I'm quite capable enough to take care of him on my own."

Potter sat back in the chair and raised a challenging eyebrow at Draco.

"I believe you," Draco said as the relief flooded through him, watching the surprise flit across Potter's face before he covered it. "But- It's a boy? You know that already?"

Potter snorted and simmered at Draco before saying, “Yes, I knew I was pregnant less than a day after we-" Potter flushed. "Male pregnancies don't work the same as normal female pregnancies apparently and Madame Pomfrey was able to diagnose my condition as soon as I started to feel weird. She was also able to determine the sex."

Draco smiled and pictured him and Potter with a small blond child with green eyes like Potter's until he snapped back to reality - Potter didn't want him and Potter was only telling him about the baby now because everyone had found out and Weasley had let the cat out of the bag to Draco earlier.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he accused, fixing Potter in his stare and watching him squirm.

“It was a bit of a shock! I didn’t even know Wizards could have babies!” He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Madame Pomfrey offered me a potion to remove foetus and-”

Draco froze. It hadn’t even occurred to him that this was an option.

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

Potter glared at him. “What do you care?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco said calmly, even as a red mist descended. “Maybe because it’s my baby!”

Potter flinched. “This baby has nothing to do with you. He’s mine.”

A voice in Draco’s head said, ‘you’re both mine’.

"Nothing to do with me? I'm about to become a father and you tell me it's nothing to do with me!" Draco pushed back his chair, ignoring how Potter jumped as it clattered to the floor. "Did you have to take a paternity test, is that it? Is that why you didn't want to tell me, because you've bent over for half the school and you didn't know which one of us knocked you up?"

Draco couldn’t remember at time he’d felt this furious.

Potter went red, "How dare you?"

"I dare because what else am I supposed to think?" Draco began to pace. "One minute you're all over me, the next I'm a pariah and you're avoiding me - now I find out that you knew all along that you were pregnant.”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

“You ‘didn’t think I’d care’.” Draco wanted to punch something, preferably not Potter at his juncture. He settled on kicking the table leg, startling Potter who reached out to grip the table as though Draco’s kicking it might result in him falling. “My baby is inside you, Potter. Mine. I have no family left – it’s just me now – and you-” Draco felt the tears of frustration threaten to fall. There was no way he was letting Potter see that. He’d already been weak enough to let the Gryffindor see him cry once before, and that had ended with Draco lying in a pool of his own blood.

“No, Malfoy. This is my son. You’re nothing but a sperm donor.”

Potter knew how to twist the knife, and fuck did it hurt. How could he believe that he was in love with someone who could be so cruel? Draco rued the day he let Blaise goad him into making a move on Potter, the misery of unrequited love was far more tolerable when there was still some hope that one day. . . Draco had obviously been wearing rose tinted glasses all these years to let himself believe that this stupid infatuation had been more than it was, that Potter was worthy of his love.

So now it boiled down to this – just - the two of them arguing bitterly over their unborn child – unborn son¬ – and Draco’s role in this being reduced down to that of sperm donor.

“I’ll show you how much I care,” Draco heard himself saying. “Expect to hear from my solicitor by the end of the week. I’m putting in a claim for custody!”

Potter gasped and placed a protective hand over his stomach.

Draco tried not to let the gesture get to him as he headed for the door and flung the door open. The room allowed him to leave. This conversation was over.

-O-

Professor McGonagall peered over her glasses at Draco. “Mr Malfoy, I’m asking you to reconsider this course of action. Mr Potter-”

Draco smirked, showing confidence that he wasn’t feeling. “I’m sure that you do want me to reconsider, but I can assure you that I will not. As the baby’s father I have rights and I intend to ensure that I am allowed them.” It had been two weeks since his threat of suing Potter for custody had taken form. Potter hadn’t approached him to talk about another solution, and Draco was damned if he was going to be the one backing down.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “Very well, Mr Malfoy. Use of my office is yours for the afternoon." The disappointment in her voice made Draco cringe. Merlin forbid that anyone try to question the rights of the fucking saviour.

She left the room and for a moment Draco was alone in her office. Merlin, he was really doing this; fighting with Harry Potter for custody of his unborn child. It wasn’t what he wanted. Well, yes, he wanted his child – after the initial panic when he’d first heard Potter was pregnant there had been no doubt in his mind about that.

He wanted Potter too. Draco didn’t think that was ever going to change. He’d had two weeks to think about it and he still wanted them both – his baby and Potter.

The door opened again and Mr Bannister, Draco’s family solicitor lead the way, followed by Potter and a fierce looking man with dark blond hair that could only be Potter’s counsel.

Potter shot Draco such a fierce look of loathing that Draco knew there could be no other course of action. His child. His family. Draco shook his head and invited them to sit.

What followed was drawn out and tedious, each solicitor bringing up ancient case law that supported their case, whilst Draco and Potter looked on. Potter getting increasingly agitated until he suddenly blurted, “What’s the bloody case law around someone sleeping with someone else for a bet?” He glared at Draco, his green eyes burning.

What? Draco opened his mouth to defend himself and then froze as realisation dawned. Fuck. How could Potter know about that? Draco hadn’t even collected on it, and that hadn’t been what it was about anyway. Blaise had his ways of getting a reaction out of Draco, and Draco’s epic obsession with Potter had needed that shove in the right direction. That was all that stupid fucking bet had ever been.

“Look at him! The guilt is written all over his face." Potter crossed his arms and sat back in satisfaction. “Apparently all I’m worth is a month of Arithmancy homework. That’s all my baby is worth to him.”

Potter’s solicitor fixed Draco with intense blue eyes, “Mr Malfoy, is this true?”

“Mr Malfoy, do not answer that!” Mr Bannister said immediately. To the wider group he said, “My client’s motivations do not change the-”

Draco turned to Potter and said, “How did you know about that?” Even as he said the words a long forgotten rumour about Potter owning an invisibility cloak surfaced. Potter was more Slytherin than Draco had realised!

“Mr Malfoy-”

Draco held up a staying hand, his eyes on Potter. Potter glared back at him but remained silent.

“If this is the way you want to go, that’s fine by me. Let me show you, hm?” Draco pushed his chair back and approached the pensieve in the corner of the room. He had his wand to his forehead and was extracting the relevant memories before he had time to change his mind. He knew that if he did this then Potter would know exactly how he felt about him, that he was opening himself up to another rejection – but how else could he prove his innocence? He capped the vial he’d captured his memories into and placed it on the side. “This vial contains the truth. Will you please look at this?”

Potter’s eyes were fixed on his, the expression wary. After a long stretched out silence in which Draco thought he might explode, Potter nodded and stood. “Fine,” he said, flicking his gaze to both of their solicitors who were both rapidly fanning through the reams of paper in front of them, presumably trying to come up with case law to cover this situation. “I’d like to do it alone.” Green met grey again and Draco saw Potter’s stubborn determination reflected within.

Draco didn’t want to leave, he wanted to be there when Potter had seen the evidence with his own eyes, but if he insisted on staying then Potter might refuse to view the memories. “Alright.” He stepped towards the door, pausing to say, “Come and find me when you’re done here.”

He exited the room, taking the stairs two at a time. Once he was clear he headed for the Astronomy Tower, the scene of his worst nightmare and bizarrely, the one place in Hogwarts that he felt safe.

Now all he had to do was wait for Potter to track him down as Draco knew he would; Potter’s Gryffindor sensibilities wouldn’t allow him not to.

-O-

The wait was longer than he expected, but it was finally over. Draco knew that the scrape of a footstep on the stairs belonged to Potter. He’d played his hand; he could only hope that he held the necessary cards for victory.

Draco leant over the side of the tower, watching the clouds shifting across the darkening sky, and when he sensed Potter’s appearance he turned. Draco realised he had been holding his breath. Their eyes met and Draco maintained the contact as Potter drew closer.

Potter halted and the two of them stood, warily gazing at one another, both of them frozen. Potter’s face was pale, his mouth red and bitten as he nervously chewed on his lower lip. Draco wanted to reach out and touch him, run the back of his hand across his face, thread his hand into his hair and pull him close. He wanted-

In the end, Draco didn’t know who moved first, but either way he found himself with his arms wrapped around one Harry Potter who had his hands threaded in Draco’s hair.

This felt like home.

After a few minutes, Potter stepped back. Instinctively Draco reached out a hand and placed it over Potter’s still flat abdomen. Potter placed a hand on top of his. “Is it just the baby you want?” he whispered, bowing his head.

“It’s always been you, Harry,” Draco answered, thinking back to his eleven year old self, desperately wanting Harry Potter’s friendship, and later, desperately wanting Harry full stop. “Our son is just icing on the cake.”

“I can’t claim ‘always’,” Harry said, his face breaking into a shy smile. “But it’s been a while for me too. I thought you hated me…”

“Well, we’ve gone and done it now, haven’t we?” Draco nodded at Harry’s tummy. “We’re having a baby.” He felt his heart swell with pride.

Harry stepped closer and placed a hand over Draco’s heart. “This means we’ve got about seven months to get to know one another properly before we become a three.”

Draco closed the gap. “We’d better get started then,” he said, and kissed Harry.

“No time like the present,” Harry said with a cheeky smile. “This time, I’m on top.”

-O-

Unfortunately – or as Draco came to see it, eventually, fortunately - for the soon to be Potter-Malfoy family, the same stars were still aligned and a little over eight weeks after Harry gave birth to their son, Remus, their daughter, Lucy was born to Draco. This time though, the two fathers were very much in love by the time they realised there was a second baby on the way, and it was difficult to say which father was more protective of the other.

Whichever way, the two of them had found a family in each other, and neither boy could be happier.


End file.
